


Melon Soda

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU where everyone is childhood friends, Babysitting, Childhood, M/M, Texting, local prince experiences feelings for the first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 00:56:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He pokes himself with his spoon while trying to unlock his phone, outright stabs his own cheek when the image loads. There’s gravy smeared across his jaw. His chest rumbles with a long, low scream.The photo Gladiolus sent, taking up the whole of his screen, is a selfie of him winking with a finger to his lips, Iris in the background absolutely marvelling at the tall glass on the table in front of her, eyes sparkling and – Noctis assumes from the slightly blurred lines around her – wiggling around in excitement.





	Melon Soda

For the first time in the twelve years Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prince of Lucis, King of Fishing, Ace of Emotional Acrobatic Feats had been in this world, he is grateful that Ignis had already stopped by to open his curtains and set his breakfast cart by the night stand. Ignis would be proud of how fast Noctis went from a blanket turtle, blearily looking at his phone through one eye half-closed, to practically throwing his phone across the floor and then jumping out to do a handstand against the far wall, if anything. He’s sure it’s a record of some sort. Noctis doesn’t think he’s been out of bed and awake within a duration under a few good hours.  
  
He doesn’t know how Ignis would react to Noctis discovering complex emotions with a spontaneous handstand though, so he’s rather glad he doesn’t have to see a slight eyebrow raise, the quiet judging in a door slowly closing.  
  
_‘For the first time on this wonderful stage, we will all stand at our next destination,’_ Noctis whispers along to the video on his phone a few feet in front of him, a song he knows well because of Prompto’s fascination with idols.  
  
The footage is upside-down from his current position, but he still feels his face warm at how light Gladiolus is on his feet, in a way Noctis hasn’t seen before. Footwork he usually sees on the training mat, going through practised motions with a training sword in his grip.  
  
Gladiolus smiles wide at the camera, waves his hand over his head, holds it open next to his cheek as he turns to Iris, who mirrors his movement. They nod at each other, kicks out one leg behind them before hopping in place, their hands together in front of their chests.  
  
_'Bit by bit, my heart. Bit by bit, grows warmer.’_ Quiet humming fills his room, the sweet scent of freshly baked pastries. Noctis starts swinging his legs, rhythmic knocking against the wall behind him. _‘I'll show you I can make all my dreams come true.’_  
  
He drops down to a puddle of sunlight, just slightly out of breath, a little dizzy. The marble floor is cold against the side of his face, his dark hair pooling under his temples, strands falling over his eyes. His hand shakes when he reaches for his phone, bringing the screen closer.  
  
A wavered breath between his parted lips, a wisp of air caught in his throat when he catches Gladiolus winking before his palm covers the camera, ending the video. Noctis curls into himself, hugging his hands to his chest over his phone. He hears his heart pounding, barely containing himself from vibrating from the sheer amount of _feelings_ he’s having.  
  
He tries to think of using this as blackmail, he really did, but a part of him just wants to keep the video to look at on rainy days, or in the quiet corners of his room during slow afternoons. His thumb nearly misses, when he taps to save the video to his phone.  
  
Noctis believes that he was built to process only a handful of emotions, and anything other than sleep-deprived listlessness would surely cause him to malfunction. Endearment mixed with an overwhelmingly cheek-aching kind happiness of isn’t anything he’s used to, and Noctis doesn’t know if he likes it or not. He's about dangerously close to punching a pillow and screaming into it; as allergic to feelings as he is, he’s pretty sure that this isn’t how happiness is supposed to manifest into his being.  
  
He braves a peak to his phone again, screeches before flinging it away and rolling onto his stomach to drown out his misery.  
  
_‘We got the dance down pat this morning! Iris wanted you to be the first one to see,’_ reads the text bubble, along with a bunch of button-mashed emojis.  
  
At the tender age of twelve, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, King of Fishing, Master of Stuffing a Whole Bread Roll in His Mouth, discovers that positive emotions are surprisingly violent.

 

* * *

 

 

 _[13:02]_  
**⚔✿**  
make sure your dad or mine isnt behind you when you open this  
  
_[13:03]_  
**⚔✿**  
_[⚔✿ sent an image]_  
  
_They aren’t,_ Noctis shrugs. _But how bad could it be, really?_ He doesn’t look away as he thumbs through the notification banners, trying to take a bite from a spoon he’s holding a little too far way from his face. If they set the kitchen on fire in the five minutes he hasn’t checked his phone, Jared would’ve power walked to the Citadel already and Noctis would’ve heard about it ten minutes ago.

He pokes himself with his spoon while trying to unlock his phone, outright stabs his own cheek when the image loads. There’s gravy smeared across his jaw. His chest rumbles with a long, low scream.    
  
The photo Gladiolus sent, taking up the whole of his screen, is a selfie of him winking with a finger to his lips, Iris in the background absolutely marvelling at the tall glass on the table in front of her, eyes sparkling and – Noctis assumes from the slightly blurred lines around her – wiggling around in excitement.  
  
He feels like crying, just a bit.  
  
_[13:03]_  
**⚔✿**  
we sneaked melon soda floats for lunch  
  
_[13:10]_  
**n.**  
ur just having that bc u cant make anything beyond arranging a parfait  
  
Thank the deities above that text can’t convey tone. Seeing him now, shaking and having a hard time even holding his phone, Gladiolus would never let it go. He could die right at this very second, take it further beyond his grave, and come back as a spirit just so he could continue to haunt Noctis to constant embarrassment. If he was there with him, Gladiolus would pull him into a headlock and poke his red cheeks. Noctis thinks he wouldn’t be able to handle the contact, warmth all around him and seeping through his clothes. He’s kind of surprised he didn’t typo the hell out of every word. 

  
_[13:03]_  
**⚔✿**  
_[⚔✿ sent a sticker]_  
  
_[13:03]_  
**⚔✿**  
you caught us heheh 　(・ω <) ゞ ✨☆  
  
He smiles, serene, to the empty air in front of him. Gingerly he sets his spoon next to his dish, takes his sweet time to fold his napkin into neat fours. He’s still smiling, when his toes touch the floor, shoes squeaking against the surface. He starts to feel his lips twitch when he walks, calm and calculated steps towards the window.  
  
It’s a nice day out today – sunny, a small scattering of clouds. There are birds on the branch hanging parallel to the windowsill. Noctis doesn’t notice any of them, doesn’t even get the chance to properly see the colours on the birds’ feathers before he scares them off.  
  
He screams again, this time a few octaves higher, his eyes screwed shut with the sheer force of the air knocked out his lungs.  
  
Ignis walks into the room then, and the little piece of sanity left in the back of Noctis’ mind apologises to him. He’s still screaming when he imagines the utter confusion in Ignis’ face, holding the door open and seeing his friend lean his weight on his arms, causing a small public disturbance on this side of the royal estate. The chat room left open on his phone gives out little by ways of explanation, but he hopes Ignis doesn’t ask any questions he’d rather not answer.  
  
“Did ingesting _one_ piece of broccoli really cause you this much agony?”  
  
_Blessed is he, O' Little Prince of Lucis, for he has been granted small miracles._ Noctis lets his scream morph into an elongated _‘yes’_ in response, turning to look over his shoulder just in time to see Ignis roll his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

After a whole afternoon of Noctis sighing wistfully at his phone, each time louder and more distressed than the last, Ignis had had enough. By the second paragraph into a new chapter about Lucian agronomics, he pointedly closed his book and sends Noctis off for a nap. 

Any day that has him under the covers before sunset with no further obligations until dinner should and irrevocably be – by all known laws of the universe Noctis stands for – a damn fine day. Yet, here he is, lying on the floor with his feet propped up on his bed, scrolling through the ten-or-twenty-or-so pictures Gladiolus had sent him throughout the day. 

‘ _Honestly, Noct,’_ he remembers Ignis say. He scrolls past a picture of Iris with notebooks and papers scattered about on their living room coffee table, dutifully working on her picture diary homework. Gladiolus makes an appearance in  the form of a blur of his thumb in the far corner. _‘I can’t quite pin down what’s wrong with you today.’_

‘ _Not that this should even be a question, but is it possible that you've been overxerting yourself?'_ A replay of the defeat and disbelief dripping in rivulets from Ignis’ voice as he stares at a picture of Gladiolus, Iris, and Jared in matching poses along with their matching aprons, posing like those masked heroes in Saturday morning shows, the dramatic group shot after a roll call.  

(He hurriedly skips the next picture to one of the cake they had made together, narrowly avoids bedpost-kicking induced injuries from seeing a stray smudge of batter on the tip of Gladiolus’ nose, his flour-dusted hairline) 

‘ _I really hope it wasn’t the geography lesson that broke you.’_ Ignis clearly had to restrain himself from flat out suffocating Noctis when he pulls the blankets over him; his hand tense under his chin, knuckles white around the sheet.

‘ _I’ll see you tomorrow then, Noct. Have a good rest.’ This sweet_ _sugar-coated summer child is why I’ll have grey hairs at fifteen,_ is what Noctis had heard instead, followed by a  _I deserve a goddamned nap,_ from the way Ignis had closed the door, footsteps dragged and heavy when he walks down the hallway.

He’s halfway through actually falling asleep, drifting between seeing light from the back of his eyelids and his screen showing a picture he hasn’t clicked on a second before, when his phone rings. 

“ _Hey, Noct? Can I video call you?”_

His breathing sounds too loud above his thundering heartbeat, over the static from his phone on loudspeaker at the other end of his bed. He doesn’t remember when he had answered the call, how long he had left Gladiolus without a reply. His wrist clutched tight to his himself, his back pressed stiff against the cold wooden headboard, hair at his nape standing on end.

“I–” 

He hopes Gladiolus doesn’t hear his words cut-off short, lodged in his throat behind a long, shaky exhale.

“ _Noct?”_ Gladiolus’ voice is soft as it filters through the air.

“If you’re going to show me desserts that I can’t eat again, I’m blocking you.” Noctis assumes bragging rights at how level he manages to keep his voice. 

“ _Nah.”_  A part of him dies somewhere inside, hopes to gain the ability to reduce his existence to liquid state when he hears Gladiolus chuckle. _“Iris wants to show you something. You’ll love it, I promise!”_

Noctis crawls to his phone, folds his legs under himself and carefully sets his phone on his lap, strategically placed on the edge of his knees so that he could easily slap it out of view when it gets too much.

“If it’s for Iris...” he says.

“Alright, great! Give me a few– _Shoot–_ ” It’s honestly offensive, how Gladiolus could still look good through an unflattering angle and with a double chin. Noctis is thoroughly miffed, feels a little like a cat with a bristled tail. He wiggles his toes, waits patiently as Gladiolus switches out of his front camera.

The video switches to Iris sitting on the grass in the middle of the Amicitias' estate garden, freshly picked wild flowers around her. She's sticking her tongue out in concentration, fiddling with something in her hands.

_“ Iris, it’s Noct! You said you have something for him?”_

“Hey, Iris.” Noctis’ hears his voice soften, smiles at the way she brightens, looking up to wave both of her hands at him. “What’ve you got there?”

Bouncing to her feet, she proudly holds up a flower crown out in front of her. She moves it to the side as she pokes two fingers out in a peace sign. “I made you a thing!” 

“Oh!” Noctis' heart feels full, warmth settling deep in his chest, a kind of natural fondness he always has for her. “I looks awesome, thank you! Bring it over when you visit next time, yeah?”

“I will– huh?” Iris tilts her head, and Noctis sees Gladiolus’ hand waving for her to come closer. She toddles over, nods along to whatever he motions. Her eyes widen, she brings an open hand to cover her mouth. “Oh yeah, we could do that! That’s a great idea, Gladdy!”

“Right?” If Gladiolus wasn’t holding his phone, Noctis imagines he would have crossed his arms over his chest, chin out and head tilted back. He could almost see the look on Gladiolus’ face – smug and full of himself. “Aren’t I smart?”

“Bend down, then!” Iris says.

Gladiolus is probably crouching, with how angle lowers down to Iris’s eye level. She's standing on tiptoes, her arms raised and out of frame, as if placing the flower crown on top of Noctis’ head.

“There! It’s just like you're here with us!” Iris grins wide, closed-eyed and crinkles around the edges, the low sun picking outlines across stray strands of her hair.

Turning the camera towards him, Gladiolus holds it high above his head this time, with Iris puffing her cheeks over his shoulders. “Too bad it’s actually on me and not on you, though– _ow!_ ” he says, laughing even through Iris shoving at his face, his cheeks smooshed against her tiny hands. 

Noctis doesn’t scream – a monumental achievement, considering the entirety of his day. He does, however, abruptly end the call, scrambling to jam his thumb against the screen to hang up. Knowing the citadel’s ever-flawless Wi-Fi, he wonders how much he could blame it on connection errors. 

He’s definitely not looking forward to explaining himself to them later. Gladiolus would not buy into any of his bullshit, but the extra training he’ll inadvertently get out of it sounds less and less like punishment the more he mulls over it.

_At least he’ll get to actually see him for longer–_

He drops his face down onto his blankets, feels a sudden kinship with Ignis in how he wants to suffocate himself. His groan is muffled by the plush down sheets, breath blowing back warm against his cheeks. He starts to count, tries to stop thinking about stupid Gladiolus and his stupid smile and his stupid haircut and the stupid way the flower crown slides down his head, purple bush clovers kissing his temples. 

By eighty, he ponders the possibility that feelings are the path to mankind's damnation. At ninety he comes to the conclusion that maybe, perhaps, there’s a slight probability that he might have, may have, a little cr– 

Shouting out the number when he reaches a hundred, he runs out of his room and down the hall calling for Ignis. He is sincerely entertaining the thought of negotiating a pay raise for him with his father, if he could introduce him to a book that would show him how to expose Gladiolus as the emotion wizard that he truly is.

That’s the only possible explanation, he thinks. Because, _really,_ what else other than a curse, could make Noctis feel like his head is filled with fluffy cotton clouds, his face warm under his fingers as he tries to hide the blush spreading to the tips of his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> a moment of silence for ignis he never asked for this


End file.
